


The Pull of the Familiar

by orphan_account



Category: Damar Series - Robin McKinley
Genre: Almost Fight, Gen, Knitting, Mages, Magic Sword, Pre-Hero and the Crown, Snarky Wizards, Stolen Artifact, Yuletide, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several years traveling in the East, Luthe returns to Goriolo's Keep to find answers about an artifact in his possession and to decide where he should go next. Repost</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pull of the Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Yuletide gift for Dien. This story takes place roughly two-thousand years before Aerin is born. All place names included within are my own invention.

It wasn't home, though it was his ultimate destination; if he were to be honest with himself he had nothing but the vaguest memories of a place that he considered his home. It was a strange longing to want something that did not have shape nor form, yet he knew must exist. It wasn't the foggy memory, nor this place – the tower and keep upon the hill, which by some trick of the light, was made invisible from the road.

This day was very different from the cool, wet morning they'd had when he left. It was now mid-summer, hot and dry; puffs of dust chased each step he made, his feet were sore, shoulders hunched up under their burden. He thought he must look like some old woman collecting tinder. Luthe had stalked off over something that now seemed so insignificant, but no more or less typical of the sort of acute comment that Goriolo was famous for. His bruised pride recovered somewhat over the past decade and a half, while the Eastern sun bleached his already pale hair, almost white.

Luthe hadn't even known where he was going when he left - other than to get away from a master whom he decided he could only disappoint. Once he had something to show for his travels, the first thing he thought to do was to go back where he started - the very sort of thought that made Goriolo say he lacked creativity.

Goriolo was waiting, as Luthe knew he would be, as he knew he had been for some time. Halfway across the world he could feel him waiting. His master never was a patient man; all of creation, every aspect of nature would bend itself to his master's will from sheer desire to please him. Luthe supposed it was futile that he'd thought to try to impress such a one; being merely persistent, almost exemplary, but by no means the most brilliant pupil, made his accomplishments feel thin.

In his thoughts a familiar smile flashed, mocking and proud. Luthe tried not to let it rankle him, but the other mage was already aware of his feelings. He'd foolishly left his mind unguarded, and Agsded was here. The other mage's overwhelming presence was impossible to ignore, centered within the white-plastered hall on the rocky hill above, somewhere. The only thing that made this bearable, was that Luthe could sense his much more congenial sister Aerinha with him.

A small, but welcome balm appeared moments later in the form of a large, yellow, black-faced sheepdog. She trotted, grinning with her tongue lolling out, to meet Luthe as he came over the rise. The dog's paw prints lead back to a bony figure, sitting humbly in the grass. Goriolo's face was obscured by a wide-brimmed straw hat, and the ancient mage didn't so much as glance up from his knitting. Their minds brushed against each other, like a pair of gray cats might on a narrow ledge, giving nothing but the barest acknowledgment, warily scenting each other out.

Needles clacking, Goriolo's thin, gnarled fingers continued to guide and loop the yarn, which was dyed the same yellow-orange of the monk's robes Luthe had seen in the East. The yarn also had a curious glint to it. Goriolo was fashioning the charmed strands into what looked like the lower part of a sock. Luthe was puzzled for a moment and then remembered that whoever won the Games this year in Antotha, would win a set of speed-enhancing stockings. Every five years Goriolo made a pair for the Emir, in exchange for goods that could not be made easily in his own home. Also, he was sent potential students. Luthe wasn't one of these, but Agsded was.

Luthe stopped and shrugged his pack off of his shoulder, careful of the slender bundle tied on one side; he let the dog lick his fingers, and scratched her behind the ears and jaw. There were usually three or four others like her, bounding golden and nimble in and around the cliffs, nearby. They watched the somnolent sheep and long-haired goats that were kept here, and sometimes brought in a fat rabbit or grass hen.

“You've at least brought me an interesting artifact, if the seal on that thing at your feet is so deserving of it,” Goriolo finally said.

“I'm pleased to see you as well, Master,” he replied. He had stood before Goriolo only for a moment and already knew he wouldn't stay long. He had never intended to stay. It saddened him that the return felt as bitter as the leaving. True, he had some questions for his master, but he was uncertain if any answers gained would be worth the price of asking.

Goriolo stopped his work and laid his knitting down in the woven-reed basket at his hip. He tipped back his hat, revealing the wrinkled, broad-featured face and dark eyes that Luthe thought must hold the record of civilization. “These few short years have not dulled your antipathy, Luthe.”

“Forgive me. While in the larger world, I have been inundated with polite speech,” he said, wondering why it was such a difficult thing to receive a simple 'Hello, how are you?' from his master.

“To my mind, such speech tends to be anything but - as you have demonstrated,” Goriolo said. He levered up and slung his basket into the crook of his arm, brushing off the back of his white tunic. “Come, it's not much past midday, lunch will still be out. I imagine you would like to sit down, after walking so far.”

Luthe decided to take this at face value, though it had backfired on him before. “I accept your invitation. Is Meda still here?” He wondered whether the studious, soft-eyed priestess, who had come to be trained in healing, had been scared off by his master's temperament, yet.

“Yes, she'll be pleased to hear about your travels,” Goriolo said.

“I see Agsded has returned as well.” A mage as talented as Agsded, should have founded his own school by now. Perhaps his work had lead him in another direction, though Luthe could only speculate what that course might be.

“He had no choice, I suppose. The creature that murdered most of his family some years ago - he destroyed it very recently. Doing so cost him a great deal,” Goriolo said, his tone very low and grim. “He is recovering I think, but he is changed.”

Luthe felt a chill in his gut. Even a mage as powerful and skilled as Agsded, could be hurt. “Did he ever discover why they were attacked?”

“He refuses to speak of it, but I suspect it was connected to his private studies. There are many risks in delving between dominions and the different planes; beings exist there that feed on nothing but _kelar_. One of these must have gotten a whiff of it in his blood and tracked that blood-scent back to them. His sister is only alive because she was with him.”

“In other words he was careless and others paid the price,” Luthe said, unable to summon the smallest amount of sympathy for Agsded.

“You may choose to see it that way. Even I can not watch every door between the worlds. It is possible to open one without even knowing, until it is too late.” Goriolo's brown face was tight in a frown, but there was a sadness behind it, that Luthe had never seen before.

The remainder of their trek up the rocky, grass-tufted hill was silent. Luthe wasn't going to call out his master for defending his favorite pupil. He would have done with his business and go. There had to be another spot like this somewhere in the world, brimming with magic and natural splendor. A place he could do his own work and put a great distance between himself and Goriolo's curmudgeonly ways and Agsded's peerless arrogance and dangerous experiments.

His master's tidy, spacious kitchen, was also his primary workroom; as such, it had jars of salt and honey sitting on the same shelves, as things like powdered chalk and water from sacred springs; all of them had magical properties, not all were edible, however. Luthe had only made the mistake of using the contents of one of these as a normal pantry item once. As a result, many of the labels on the pots and jars bore his own handwriting – Goriolo had him catalog them all as punishment, afterward.

The housekeeper was not in evidence, but it was usually invisible and kept to the garden, or the sheep shed when people other than the master were about. Goriolo hung his hat and Luthe his dusty cloak; he accepted the watered wine which his master chilled for him and drank it slowly. They ate simple fare, the bread and cheese and seasoned vegetables that Luthe had eaten many times before, in this same room. He was surprised to find he thought it all bland; a few years of tolerating the often hot and spicy Eastern food, had changed his palate considerably.

They ate in uncongenial silence. Luthe knew not to say a word. Until Goriolo had made up his mind how to discuss his pupil's rebellion, they could not talk about any of the other things he wished to. It didn't take long, though longer than he expected, since his master did not hesitate to speak his mind.

“It's odd how curious I find myself, of what gave you the impetus to return. Particularly, after your assertion that you hoped you'd never have reason to do so, just as you left,” Goriolo said, as he poured himself another cup of wine from the green earthenware pitcher.

Luthe pushed what was left of his meal aside and pulled his pack up to his lap. He started undoing the ties on the long, tightly-wrapped bundle of unbleached canvas, which was attached snugly to the well-worn leather. “You probably recall that for many years before I left this place, I had quite a number of strange dreams. One of the few that I saw more than once, included a woman made of blue fire,” he said, as he began to unwind the canvas, and with it the seal on item within. The canvas gave way to thick black silk and he unwound this as well, though more carefully.

“Yes, I do recall that you were lamenting for a long time, wondering what it meant. There was little else to the dream,” said Goriolo, who had taught him Farseeing, a skill which once mastered, led to the not unheard of side-effect of his student having occasional prophetic dreams.

“I never intended to seek her out. To be honest, it seemed more like she found me. If I hadn't come across the temple she was in, and seen her myself...” Luthe would remember that moment for as long as he lived; the shock of recognition, the instant knowledge that he would not leave the place without her. Then with his hand upon her sheath, he was flooded with the storm of power that she contained, and was almost knocked the length of the red-pillared shrine.

“What do you mean?” said Goriolo, his brow creasing.

The last fold of black silk slid away from the shining silver-white scabbard and then the hilt, which bore a large blue stone. Now that the seal was off, she was starting to wake up. He was careful not to touch her directly, as once had been enough. “I removed her from the Temple of Sarimhali – it's on the western border of Okorshin if you're not familiar. I did so at her request.” He had nothing against the warrior monks there, nor their seated, wooden god who had held her across his polished knees.

“At her request?” If possible, Goriolo's white eyebrows had risen even further up his wrinkled forehead. He was looking at it now with his mage-sight, and curiosity and bemusement bloomed over his face.

Luthe frowned, knowing he wasn't explaining what had happened well, but the event had been confusing for him, too. “I would never abscond with a magic sword unless I thought it was important - I've about as much use for a blade like this, as an earthworm has for a garden fork. I can't draw her for long in any case, she's so overwhelming.”

Goriolo nodded. “Interesting. You keep saying “she” does she have a name?”

“Gonturan.” He'd known it as he touched her, just like he'd known he'd be leaving with her. A lick of blue fire flashed across the sheathed sword, and the stone glinted at him. She was awake.

“I see. So in essence, you have been taken advantage of by an artifact you acquired dubiously, and now you don't know what to do with it.” His master's eyes were narrowed at him, his mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a wry grin.

“Yes.” There was a certain amount of shame weighting this admission, and it squeezed at his heart. What made Gonturan choose him, he could only guess at. He doubted it had anything to do with an iron will, or marvelous proficiency on his part.

His master made a noise in his throat that might have been a chuckle, but he never laughed, so Luthe doubted it. “Then it would seem that if you're not going to use her and she wanted you to take her with you, your duty is finding the correct wielder for her,” Goriolo said.

“Yes, of course - that's also part of the problem. I know it sounds strange, but I think she was made only to be held by a woman,” he said. The question of why she was made in the first place was for another time. Luthe would require a great deal of time to unravel the mysteries of her creation if she did not wish to explain.

Goriolo shrugged a little and touched the gem on Gonturan's hilt carefully. “Female soldiers are not unheard of.” He pulled his hand back quickly as if he'd just been admonished.

“I realize that, but they are still few and far between. I can't just give her to any woman who happens to like a good fight,” Luthe said in frustration. He wasn't even sure how he would run into such a one. He had no intention of becoming a court mage or spending the rest of his life traveling – he'd had his fill of sleeping on the road accompanied by bad weather and questionable food. Which meant she would have to come to him.

“Perhaps knowing that you will not is why Gonturan chose you. And why you will know when the time comes,” said his master, looking at him squarely, as if he understood the weight of the responsibility.

“When you say it like that, it almost makes sense,” Luthe mumbled. He rolled the black silk back over her, reweaving the seal that would contain Gonturan's fierce energy.

“I believe you will know - as I knew I would teach you. Do you intend to stay?” Goriolo asked. It was then that Agsded deigned to join them.

Luthe had felt him approaching rather like a boulder bearing down a hill at him, well before their eyes met over Goriolo's shoulder. Agsded looked very much the same as he remembered him; his mane of bright, curling, red hair, pulled back with a gold-edged black ribbon around his pale, ageless face; his hazel eyes seemed to spark as the light caught them. The heavy black robe he wore, bound at the waist with a thick length of ruddy silk, had a jagged pattern on it, reminiscent of lightning. Everything about him screamed that he was a man of power.

The mage mark on Agsded was so strong, it took determination just to hold his gaze. Goriolo was right though, something about him was different. Luthe had always felt an underlying hostility from his fellow student, but now within him sat some baleful malevolence, as if his heart had turned a corner and he refused to look back. He smiled at him, his mind battering up against Luthe's defenses like a wild wind. Agsded was trying to pry into his thoughts, and delve why this one, whom he considered to be on the level of an insect, had seen fit to darken their master's doorstep again.

“Well met, Luthe. Master Goriolo,” he said, his voice deep and amused.

Luthe glared at him for a moment. “Truly?” he asked. He had pulled Gonturan into his lap and did not stand to greet him.

Agsded cocked his head and turned to walk over to the cupboard for an empty cup. “I am well enough, then. You seem agitated, Luthe. Perhaps your travels have brought you some grief,” he said, as he helped himself to what was left in the pitcher on the table, and gestured at Luthe's cup as if he were offering to refill it.

He shook his head. “My business is not with you, Agsded.”

“I suppose not. Does that mean you aren't going to let me have a look at that fascinating little item you've brought home?” His grin, while dazzling, terrified him. Luthe felt like the tendrils of some dark miasma were closing in all around. He gathered his strength, and pushed outward, sending the unpleasantness back. Agsded made a small surprised laugh, and set his cup down hard enough for the dregs to splash out.

Sensing that his two pupils were on the verge of a mage battle in his own kitchen, Goriolo pushed his heavy chair back from the table with a screech of wood against tile. “Fools. Stop this at once, both of you,” he said, his own mage-strength flaring outward like a whip at them. It stung, though not physically.

“Luthe, follow me."

With Gonturan slung under one arm and his pack on his shoulder, Luthe stalked behind his master, still smarting. He did not look back at Agsded.

Walking fast, Goriolo seemed intent on towing him to the middle of one of the sheep pastures. Some of the sheep came towards them where they stopped, an unremarkable spot except for its distance from the keep. One of the dogs trotted up to greet them too, and then tore off barking to the other side of the dry, grassy hill, as if he saw a hare hopping away from the corner of his eye.

Luthe sighed heavily, looking out across the dusty, rock-littered landscape and then up to the hard blue sky. “I have nothing more to ask of you. I will go,” he said.

“Go where?” Goriolo grumbled. "What will you do? Teach? You should, you know. You have the skills for it." Luthe understood that he thought he was running from Agsded, which was true enough. He had no intention of staying under the other mage's influence or fighting him. It seemed more important that he leave the longer he stayed - and he hadn't been there an hour. He had a terrible feeling that the darkness Agsded was building up around himself would soon infect everything here.

He shook his head, adjusting his pack. “I don't know. Perhaps to the South this time. I hear there's a huge library in Amalekar.”

“If you go that way, you should visit Temyris at the Lake of Dreams. She may be able to give you better guidance," Goriolo said, as one of the sheep tried to nibble on his cuff.

"How do I get there?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Goriolo snorted. "If the Lake wants you to find it, you will. If you need to find it, you will. It's a strange place," he said, and batted the sheep away.

It could be no stranger than this one, where the landscape seemed to shift regularly of its own volition. "I will keep that in mind," Luthe said, and began to walk away back towards the road. When he turned to say farewell, Goriolo was already gone.


End file.
